


The Ole Razzle Dazzle

by SansyFresh



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, My own take on Swapfell, Not your typical Razz and Slim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: A new take on an old story; what happens when you take a Lord and make him a servant?(What happens when the Lord never wanted to be a Lord in the first place.)





	The Ole Razzle Dazzle

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually gave Swell Sans and Papyrus some serious thought recently and, in my own way, shaped them into what I would like to see more of. And that's not me pushing my headcanons on everyone else, it just means that this is how I see them personally and have honestly fallen in love with them.

_Beep Beep FUCK YOU_

 

Sans blinked, his sockets slitted in the darkness of his room. His clock, an old antique he’d pilfered from one of the random pawn shops in the slums of the Capitol, seemed to get louder and louder each day. He slapped the button on the top of the hard plastic, watching for a minute to make sure the stupid thing actually registered the click before sighing and turning over onto his back.

 

Really, he didn’t want to get up. Getting up meant doing things, and doing things meant eventually growing tired and ending up back in bed anyways, so what was the point? But then his brother wouldn’t get a good meal today, he’d just make a mayonnaise and caramel sandwich or go to Muffet’s or make the trip to Grillby’s and waste all his gold on sweets. The house wouldn’t get cleaned. His traps wouldn’t get checked. Really, it would just be better for the whole of Monsterkind if he got up today.

 

But holy shit, he really didn’t want to.

 

He could hear some kind of shuffling out in the hall beyond his door, likely his brother getting up himself. Papyrus never was truly awake until he’d had a good mug of caramel-flavored coffee. Which, coffee was a rarity, enough so that on most days his brother forewent the treat, waking up with a blast of frigid air to his skull when they finally headed out for the day. But perhaps today could be an exception. Sans needed something himself, or else he wouldn’t make it to his sentry station. Not this morning.

 

Pushing his soft blanket down to the foot of the bed, Sans slowly worked his legs over the side, allowing most of his weight to hang over the edge of the mattress before he pulled himself up. He closed his sockets through the momentary lightheadedness, shaking his head lightly to dispel it as he stood. He’d worn his bodysuit to bed the night before, so it took no longer than a few minutes to pull on his chest plate and dark leggings, fixing his bandana around his neck before pulling on and lacing up his boots.

 

He gave the mirror fixed to his closet door a sideways glance before opening his bedroom door and heading out, shutting it behind him with a click. Making his way down the steps, he moved through the living room and into the kitchen without a second thought. Papyrus was already seated at the table, head buried in his arms. Sans gave him a few pats on the top of the skull as he passed, retrieving the coffee machine from a lower shelf and setting it on the counter with a practiced motion.

 

He knew Papyrus was watching with a curious air as he got out their meager box of indulgences, pulling the small bag of coffee grounds out from between the remaining bar of chocolate and a plastic baggy of tobacco. The grounds were put in the machine, water poured inside before he turned it on, the low, bitter smell of brewing coffee soon filling the room. The two brothers shared a sigh of contentment, Papyrus snickering behind him lightly even as he reburied his face in his arms. Sans stared at him with a bored expression as low snores began to fill the silence. The asshole would end up late again, it seemed. Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the stove, going over the food they had stored up in his head. Bread and water sausages it was.

 

~.~

 

A chilled wind brushed against his cheek, Sans turning to stare down the open path, spine rigid and arms straight at his sides. He’d gotten to his shift on time, unlike _some_ skeletons he knew, and had been on patrol for maybe an hour when the faint sound of a branch snapping came through the otherwise complete silence of the forest around him. Ignoring such a sound would be nothing but asking to be dusted, especially for someone of his status. Rather than doing the smart thing and calling the wayward monsters out before they could surround him, Sans huffed and continued down the path.

 

Taking his phone from his pocket, he tapped a few keys, looking over the message before hitting send with a smirk. The footsteps were all around him now, the assholes not even attempting to hide their movements. Whoever it was was dumb enough to attack a guard of his rank, but bold enough to believe they stood a chance. Rather than calling them out immediately, Sans continued walking until one of them decided to make their move.

 

It was a hulking dog beast, mouth frothing with spit and eyes rolling in its head as it growled, halting his progress as it stepped out into the path, baring its fangs in a show of aggression. He stopped, crossing his arms as two more came from the forest edge, a flame and a bunny. A ramshackle group if he ever saw one, the flame stepping forward clearly their leader.

 

“Master Sans, Chief of Snowdin, will you give up your position as Lieutenant?” The flame spoke in a rich Hotland accent, the pronunciation forced into a crisp tone.

 

It was straightforward and to the point; Sans appreciated that in an attack. Rolling his shoulders, he let himself loosen, head tilting to the side.

 

“And if I refuse?” His tone was irreverent, disrespectful to one who was attempting to give him honor in stepping down. As if honor was something to be had in this world.

 

The anger at his flippancy, when he had been offered respect, was clear in the way the flame’s fire crackled, sparks flying up and dissipating into the chilled air. A movement was made, some kind of signal, before Sans heard the echo of footsteps surrounding him, monsters moving out of the shadows with bared teeth and crackling magic.

 

“Then I suppose you leave us no choice.”

 

Razz grinned. “No. I don't suppose I do.”


End file.
